Memories of a Lost Life
by Janina90
Summary: Severus Snape lies dying and only one thought flows through his mind - how different it could have been. Slight SS/LE


(A/N: I can't help but mourn the death of Severus Snape, the most tragic character to ever be overlooked by most reader (in my opinion). This is a work of fiction with characters borrowed from the great J.K. Rowling.)

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It's funny, the things that he remembered as he laid dying. He had been hoping that all he would think about was her; how the top of her head barely reached his chin, how she constantly pushed her dark red hair back to see him properly, how she would smile for him and only him, and those eyes. So green, glittering like emeralds. But like so much in Severus Snape's life, he was left disappointed. His pleas to the Dark Lord, 'let him find the Potter boy and bring him' were ignored. Instead the explanation of the elder wand and why it hadn't preformed admirably for him was all he got before Nagini was biting his neck. Sinking thick fangs into the soft flesh had come about so sudden he hadn't even thought of pulling out his wand.

But now as he lay on the cold, wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack all thought that would be remembered were those memories over the years. Professor McGonagall watching him with distain as he inserted his opinion of 'The Potter boy' in the staff room. Dumbledore, looking at him with saddened blue eyes as Snape continued to complain about having to teach the boy occulmency. His anger at the 'Golden Trio' as they were rewarded for their continued rule breaking, that coincidentally resulted in some kind of triumph that was so completely obviously gained from dumb luck; it had made him sick.

Almost as sick as he now felt, reflecting about all these feelings and the truth hidden behind them. As Severus Snape lay bleeding to death, all alone after failing the one mission that would vindicate his years of work, vindicate her death, he couldn't help but admit the truth to himself. How in some distant, rarely visited corner of his brain he could almost see that day, 7 years ago completely altered. Instead of a miniature copy of James Potter strolling into the Great Hall that day, he saw a perfect combination of black hair, tamed by the sleekness of the boy's mother's hair, perfect almond shaped green eyes, a bit ganglier, and a longer, more hooked nose. He could almost see the boy standing nervously waiting to be sorted until McGonagall reached the S's. He could almost see the young boy look up at the staff table with anxious eyes that would relax somewhat as they rested on his father, standing proudly with an encouraging smile. Snape could almost see himself cheering on his son as he was sorted into whatever house, he would be amazingly pleased if he had even been sorted into the house of Hufflepuff. He could imagine writing an owl directly after the feast to his wife, or perhaps she would be up at the staff table, putting all her genius of charms into use.

Snape forced his eyes shut. Even though the thoughts were completely fiction and were reflected upon so little, he couldn't image the pain that would accompany them. The lost life that awoke his pain of making the biggest mistake of his life, strolled into the school looking like that of his most hated enemy. The lost life, showing up in his classes, looking at him with nothing more than interest in the subject that first day so long ago. Snape thought back, grudgingly and finally accepted that it was never the boy he had hated so much.

What the boy had represented. His alternate life, locked away. How could anyone understand his pain, his reasoning for being so cruel over the years? And no one would now, seeing as he felt life fading.

Suddenly he wasn't alone. Harry Potter stood in the corner of the room, looking as if he had popped out of thin air. He slowed approached Snape who was still gasping for air, holding onto his neck as if he was trying to hold the blood inside. Potter's eyes looked over his body, scanning the damage, wishing him dead already?

Snape finally saw the opportunity presented. Sheer, blind luck. How had the boy known to be here? No matter, silvery memories bled out, stained red by the blood.

"Take it…. take it…" He croaked, blood filling his mouth as well now.

The brightest witch of the age stepped over with a small glass vial and eyes that looked strangely saddened. Potter stooped and Snape waited until the vial was lifted to his view, filled with the memories he had chosen when Dumbledore revealed his plan to him, nothing of the lost life. Those memories would die with him.

Potter moved to back away, looking at the vial with curiosity. Before he got more than a few inches he grasped the front of his shirt and pulled the boy close.

"… Look… at… me…" He rasped, a mist of blood escaping his lips as the blood poured freely from his neck where he no longer held the wounds.

And then those eyes, the eyes that had haunted him for his whole life, looked down on him and then it was not Harry Potter in the room with him – it was young Lily Evans. Before she had married Potter, before she had unwittingly made herself a target for the Dark Lord. She stood looking down at him; red hair pulled back which gave him the view of her face where pink lips were smiling lightly. His heart leapt at the sight and some of the anger and resentment floated out of his soul.

Harry Potter stood up as Snape's eyes went still, Hermione stood slightly behind him her hand on his shoulder, and Ron still holding onto the invisibility cloak cleared his throat lightly. All eyes on Severus Snape as he finally rested in peace.

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Please review if you found this at all what you imagined when Snape died. (Tear) And thank you so much for reading. =)

~Janina90


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